


Let's...Stay in Tonight

by subwaytonowhere



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Broadway, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Musicals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:08:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3425642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subwaytonowhere/pseuds/subwaytonowhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curt and Riker are making spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. When Riker comes home from the grocery store to hear Curt singing a song from "A Light in the Piazza", a little singing contest ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's...Stay in Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from freakin-over-bands on Tumblr: impromptu musical numbers while making food. Musical lyrics are copyright their authors. My apologies for any incorrect lyrics.

“The day we meet, the way you lean against the wind, and do not know that you are beautiful, or that anyone is watching you, this is what I see,” Curt sang from the top of his lungs as he rolled ground beef into balls. Tonight, he and Riker were having spaghetti and meatballs, and he was in the process of making meatballs while Riker ran out to get some more groceries.

Curt wasn’t exactly sure why he was singing, except for the fact that he was in a musical mood tonight, and the fact that they were having an Italian dish for dinner made him think of _A Light in the Piazza_.

He heard a noise at the door, something akin to knocking. It was probably their alcoholic neighbor, nursing yet another hangover, and not wanting to hear Curt belting out some opera.

“Curt, I need help!” came a voice from behind the door. No trouble from their alcoholic neighbor tonight. It was just Riker.

Curt grabbed a dish rag and rushed over to the door. He used the dish rag to open the door, because he had grease on his hands. Riker rushed in just before dropping one of the bags. Curt bent down to pick it up.

“Thanks for finally helping me out,” Riker said. The two men walked into the kitchen of their apartment.

“Finally? What’s that supposed to mean?” Curt asked, setting the bag on their table.

“I knocked on that door for like, three minutes, but you were too busy singing to hear me.”

Curt could feel his cheeks getting warmer.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No, it’s fine,” Riker said. “I like listening to you sing.”

“Awwww,” Curt said.

“I would tell you how much I love you, but I think you’d rather me sing it.”

Curt returned the bowl of ground beef, once again beginning on the task of making the meatballs.

“I’m listening.”

He felt Riker’s arms wrap around his waist and pull him close. Even after several months together, being close to Riker still made his head buzz.

“We go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong,” Riker sang, swaying Curt along to the beat of the song.

“That’s not romantic at all,” Curt said, playfully swatting at Riker. “Sing something else.”

“I got chills, they’re multiplying, and I’m losing control, because the power you’re supplying, it’s electrifyin’”

Then Riker tickled his stomach, nearly making him fall down with laughter. His stomach was horribly ticklish, and Riker knew that fact all too well.

“All right, all right,” Curt sighed. Tears were starting to form at the corners of his eyes. “Give me a second to breathe.”

“Still not what you had in mind?” Riker asked.

“I was kind of hoping for something a little more…romantic,” Curt said, turning around to face Riker.

“I dreamed a—“

“No.”

“Then tell me. What do you consider ‘romantic’?”

“Something along the lines of this,” Curt said. He cleared his throat and began to sing once more.

“Somebody hold me too close, somebody hurt me too deep, somebody sit in my chair, and ruin my sleep and make me aware of being alive, being alive…”

“That’s not even the beginning of the song, silly.”

“I know. It’s just the most relevant part.”

Riker just laughed.

“Alright, then. I think I know something that’s a little more your speed,” Riker said.

“Try me.”

“No more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyed fears, I’m here, nothing can harm you, my words will warm and calm you…”

Curt’s heart leaped in his chest.

“Let me be your freedom, a world with no more night, I’m here, with you beside you, to guard you and to guide you…”

“Say you’ll love me every waking moment, turn my head with talk of summertime, say you need me with you now and always, promise me that all you say is true, that’s all I ask of you.”

They continued singing the song, finally making it to the end part.

“Anywhere you go let me go too…love me, that’s all I ask of you.”

“Was that what you wanted?”

“Yes,” Curt said, kissing Riker on the cheek.

“Good, because I have more.”

Curt raised an eyebrow, but Riker didn’t say anything else. Instead, he spun Curt around and wrapped his arms around his waist, just like he’d done before he had started singing “We Go Together.” But he didn’t break into Grease music again.

“Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation, darkness stirs and wakes imagination, silently the senses abandon their defenses…”

Riker’s hands started moving up Curt’s body, making their way to his face. His breath hitched.

“Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor, grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender, turn your face away from the garish light of day, turn your face away from cold unfeeling light…”

Riker slipped his fingers under Curt’s chin, turning his head like the Phantom does in the play. Without meaning to, Curt groaned a little. Riker kept singing, moving his hands around like he was the phantom, but Curt swore he could hear Riker smirking as he sang.

In a way, it was sort of embarrassing, but if Riker was seducing him, it was working. He could feel himself starting to stiffen up—and Riker certainly had noticed. Finally, Riker finished the song. Curt couldn’t even think of anything to say at first.

“Wow,” Curt said.

“Was that a little uncalled for?” Riker asked.

“No, it was just—wow.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Every single day, I walk down the street…” Riker began. Curt couldn’t help but smile. “I hear people say ‘baby’ so sweet.”

“Ever since puberty, everybody stares at me, boys, girls, I can’t help it baby,” Curt sang, picking up where Riker had left off.

“So be kind and don’t lose your mind…”

“Just remember, I’m your baby!”

“Take me for what I am…”

“Who I was meant to be…”

Then, they both joined in.

“And if you give a damn, take me baby or leave me.”

Curt reached up and wrapped his arms around Riker’s neck, pulling him down and kissing him forcefully on the lips. He felt Riker’s hands grab his waist and hold it tightly, right as he kissed him back with all his might.

After yet another hungry kiss, Riker’s hands slid down to the waistband of Curt’s jeans. He slipped his thumbs in, and started moving them towards the button that kept them shut.

Curt stopped kissing him and reached down, grabbing Riker’s hands and sliding them back apart.

“We need to save something for desert,” Curt said with a smile. “And we can’t have desert until we finish making dinner.”

“Damn,” Riker said. Curt chuckled.

“Come on, help me finish the meatballs,” Curt said.

“Whatever you say, dear,” Riker said.


End file.
